Starfish
by unebellecatastrophe
Summary: I never imagined I'd be sitting here, pregnant by Draco Malfoy, reading a sickly distorted version of my life in the daily prophet. It changes everything I imagined my life would be and threatens to diminish the memories I have left of Ron.
1. If It Makes You Happy

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Spread eagle and back pressed to the cool hardwood floor, I am surrounded by empty rooms in an apartment. My face is numb and my left hand is curled, but slack around a bottle of wine. The sock on my right foot somehow slouched completely off and my wand is still tucked tightly into the waist of my skirt. I'm not sure how long I've been here, lying on the floor. My mind is exhausted from fending off the sharp thoughts that are wont to invade me. Memories that should run like movies, pass like photography stills, shots of damage. I manage to get the wine bottle to my lips only to determine that it's empty. It's always empty. I think about the blood spattered walls that have been shined until they hold nothing of the horror that happened within them. I am to set foot into the school where parts of me were destroyed tomorrow morning at promptly seven a.m. to teach the youth of tomorrow. The youth of tomorrow, I snicker darkly. My mind clicks, whirs, and switches to a more recent memory, one of Ron and I before everything went to shit. Tears well up and I want to smack myself for being such a girl. I rollover onto my stomach, pull my shirt over my head, and ball it up into a makeshift pillow under my head. I can only sleep on my stomach.

My head feels turned inside out as I attempt to stand up. I stumble into the shower and hurry to get out of the confined space. I cut myself shaving, a rivulet of blood running down my leg. The bright red is gory against the paper white of my skin. I throw on slacks and a shirt to wear under my robes and apparate with a crack. Hogwarts looms over me as I stand in Hogsmeade. I suppress the stream of images, the smells, the sounds. McGonagall is waiting for me, face tight lipped with a hint of a smile. She looks ancient, the last few years have aged us all. And when we walk through the front doors of the castle I feel it in my soul, it tugs at the already open wound within it. The stairs are not rounded with age, but sharp, angular and made of shiny new stone. Too quickly we are at the gargoyle and McGonagall pauses as if waiting for someone else to do it.

"Lemon Drop." She says in an almost whisper. We are all waiting.

As I walk towards the two chairs in front of the headmaster's desk, I realize one is already occupied. There is no one else living in this world with hair the color of moonstone, skin almost as pale and eyes made of razor blades. And I am lost. I am lost in a sea of bewilderment, disgust, and cold anger. My skin itches to attack him. It would be so easy to kill him. To watch the life drain from him in just a second. War has turned my thoughts savage and for a moment he looks scared, like he can read them. But I manage to sit stiffly in the open seat.

"Professors, you will be working closely together. We must prevent what has been allowed to go on for too long. The segregation of houses, instead of unity, has lead to the deaths of many. And whether or not you agree with my philosophy is of no relevance. While working at Hogwarts the main goal for this school will be unity. As the head of the houses that hold the most resentment towards one another I expect you to be nothing less than shining examples of civility. Is that clear?" Her tone is clipped, demanding, belief driven.

"Yes." I say evenly as the man beside me nods. She goes on for almost an hour but I can't pay attention. Not when all the hairs on my body are raised. How to contain myself? When every part of my body is screaming? At our dismissal I am up and moving quickly towards my new office.

"Granger," It is no more than a murmur but in the silence it feels like a bullet. "wait, please." I turn to face him. His face is gaunt, sickly and I take a pleasure in it that I shouldn't.

"Out with it." I grunt.

"I really need to make this work ok? I will do whatever it takes. You don't have to love me, like me, respect me, you just have to tolerate me." And with this anger is replaced by curiosity. I nod and decide to make a detour before I get to my office. I slide outside and onto a bench on one of the greens. The air is crisp with fall and my fingers are twitching and my body is calling. My cold hands fumble with the package as I tap out a cigarette. I flick the lighter and the heat is instantaneous, delicious as I suck it in. The smoking is recent, it calms me the repetitive motion, the flick and heat of the lighter, and the mindlessness of it. I smoke three of them before I can make myself go back inside and face it, but I have to. I need to.

"Hello Class, I am Professor Granger and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year. You are the first generation of students at this renovated institution and the first in this era of peace. But even in light there still remains darkness, shadows. And so I must teach you how to defend against the dark, to protect yourself from the dangers that may still lurk there. I am a big advocate of hands on learning as well as knowledge of the mechanics. Before every class I expect you to have read the chapter on which spell or spells we will be working on for that lesson. There will be a short two question quiz at the beginning of each block. Is this understood?"

And after that it is almost easy. I paste a smile on my face, I make conversation. But as the sun disappears and the sky turns velvet I am ready to leave. On my way out of the castle I bump into him. He flinches away and he doesn't look angry, scared, intimidated…just tired.

"I apologize Granger." He looks directly in my eyes and apologizes, but his lips hold the hint of a smirk. This is a piece of him I've been searching for. It is evidence that we haven't lost everything. Not yet. I find that we begin walking side by side in silence. But there are parts of me that wish to break it, the silence that locks us. And I am so tired of walking into an empty home.

"Malfoy." I nod, and apparate. The walls are the color of parchment, the floors of chocolate. The only thing I've managed is an old fridge and that took me weeks to buy. As I uncork a bottle of wine, a crack sends it to the floor in a smash of glass. The wine spreads like blood across the floor and I feel weak.

"Fuck." And I see him, I see his flesh torn open, vessels and muscle exposed, and blood gushing, pouring. The screaming reverberates in my mind. I slam my hands over my ears trying to shut it out. But all I can hear is

"GRANGER." And I turn to see Malfoy standing in my makeshift kitchen. I want to shake him until his teeth rattle.

"What are you doing here?" I scream, heart pounding.

"I don't know ok. I just…I just came over." With a flick of my wand I clean up the mess of glass and wine. His face has a five o'clock shadow and his hair is skewed. His hands are shaking. He takes a finger and traces a faint scar above my lip. Cobalt eyes scorch me as his hips press against mine he attacks my mouth. It's brutish and I'm sure my lips will be swollen. He feels so good. My back slams against the beige walls I've hated every night. "Hermione." And like a shot I'm off, body as close to the opposite wall as possible. I slide down the wall, head in my hands.

"What the fuck?" I scream. How did I get here? Three weeks ago I contemplated murdering him. I was one minute away from fucking him against that wall. That wall that I've hated every night. And so I am reaching for the pack on the counter. I barely get the cigarette lit before he's in my face and throwing it into the sink.

"You're not going to smell like a low class merchant and waste the life you've managed to keep." And I am beating him. I am screaming and the tears are falling. I am wrecked. Arms wrapped tightly around my body make me squirm.

"Let me go." I screech, terrified. He let's go as if I've burned him, eyes wide. I am panting, chest heaving. All I can do is drop to the floor and spread my limbs to form the eagle I've made myself into every night since I lost him. I close my eyes and imagine that I am a starfish. I hear the rustle of clothing and turn my head to the side and peak with one eye. He is there beside me, stretched out, eyes closed. I crawl on top of him tears dotting his shirt and skin. I kiss his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, and his lips; his skin left salty by my tears.

"Be my friend." I whisper. He wraps his arms loosely around me and presses a kiss to my temple.

"Ok. Ok Granger." And I drift into a sleep that has eluded me for six months and fourteen days.


	2. Why the Hell Are You So Sad

In the grey unforgiving light of the morning, the cold pulls at my skin. I am alone, in the center of the floor, eyes a little swollen and ego more than a little bruised. In the bathroom I examine my face in the mirror. I look at the ever present dark circles under my eyes, the sallow, unhealthy tinge to my once beautiful skin, and that scar. It is short and jagged, started but unfinished. I close my eyes and feel him trace his finger over it. Last night I sought comfort in the one person I promised myself that I wouldn't. Harry is gone, stateside with Ginny because there are too many memories, too much pain. I can't find a way to get to the Weasleys. I feel so disconnected from them, like I was a piece of furniture in their lives. But Ron, beautiful Ron. I am forced to confront the look of mind numbing pain that contorts my face. Ron was everything. And I, by my actions, am dishonoring, destroying.

Being a professor is everything that I hoped it would be. But the funny thing about that is the lack of someone to share it with. I cannot share that one moment where it finally clicked for a student and I saw his eyes light up, I cannot share that one student reminds me painfully of Ron with his orange hair and short temper, and I cannot share what eats me from the inside out. Losing Ron was losing our future; losing the modest cottage in the country, the three red headed children I'd decided on, the porch we'd sit on as we turned grey. There is a vast, gaping hole in my soul and I don't know how long I can bear it.

I light up on the walk from the castle. It has become routine. I can't believe that two months have passed in and out of the classroom. I have avoided Malfoy like the plague, to be clichéd. He is the personification of everything that went wrong. Fighting for the dark, even if there is proof of coercion, killing others, it makes me ill. Who was it that killed Ron? It wasn't Malfoy but it was someone like him. And so I ignore the attempts at pleasantness and soon we fall into the flaccid civility expected by McGonagall. Even though it pains me I encourage my students not to judge based on the house another student belongs to. But I am a shattered piece of the old era and it makes me wary.

As I apparate into my home I am off balance. There is something off. Lying in the middle of my living room floor is a coffee table. It is beautiful and ancient, rounded edges and a deep brown. And I know that Malfoy has been here.

Walking is all that I have to focus my thoughts. I don't want to do something, irrational or stupid like off him. It didn't take much to find his address but three blocks from my own. I knock on the door so forcefully my knuckles turn bright red. He stands there in the door way, an amused expression on his face. In the months I've been avoiding Malfoy, he's changed. He looks healthy and clean and unbroken. I am furiously envious and feel lesser, unable to throw off my tragedy.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He drawls, almost like his former self. His voice is all snarky with none of the malicious tinges.

"Take it back. Take the table back." My voice is shaking with anger.

"No." He shrugs his shoulders.

"Please." The heat is gone, replaced by a feebleness fueled by exhaustion.

"Hermione." He murmurs and pulls me into his arms. He presses a soft kiss to my neck and I am weak. His slightly chapped lips against mine feels so god damn good. My body is so warm instead of its usual cold and I am compliant as he slips my shirt over my head, his fingers tracing patterns on the skin of my shoulders, stomach, hips. As he fumbles with the button on my jeans, lips glued hotly to my neck, I am sucked into a memory.

_Tomorrow is when everything changes, when we leave. The burrow is the only modicum of comfort I have had for months. I hear a creak on the stairs and in seconds my wand is drawn, my body pressed into the shadows. My body uncoils with a sigh of relief as Ron slips into my room. He has never crept in here in the dead of the night; he has never sought me out._

"_Ron, is everything ok?" My breath is uneven, and I'm scared. I'm scared of what might come out of his mouth._

"_Hermione, I'm going to do this all wrong ok? But I can't do this anymore. Seeing you every day, so close to me and unable to tell you, to touch you." He is so close, I can feel the heat radiating off of his body. His hand cups the side of my face and I don't need anything else. I don't need a promise for forever, or declarations of love, or a poem. I just need the way he's touching me, the way he's looking at me, the way he needs me. He pulls me close to him by the hem of my shirt and kisses me so violently I know my lips will be swollen. His hands set fire to my skin and I can barely stay lucid. There is no time to be innocent. I quickly pull his shirt off and yank mine over my head. I notice a tremble in his hand as he attempts to unbutton my jeans. I put my hand on top of his and do it for him. _

_And in a bed barely big enough for the both of us Ron fucks me so hard I can't see straight. It is painful and visceral and primal. It is simple and ugly and perfect. _

And I am back, agonizingly grounded in reality. Malfoy is looking at me this broken girl, tears crashing down her face. His hands jump from my body, his face twisted by anger and disgust. It is a look I know all too well.

"Please." I whisper. Afraid of what I don't know. I am so small.

"What is it Granger? Scared you'll catch it? Is your perfect golden girl skin to pure for me to touch? Me, a lowly detestable death eater?" He screams at me. His cheeks are flushed, as he bares his arm to me. It is ugly, a black, thick, scar. He can never erase this piece, this tangible representation of who he was. And who you were always defines who you are. "Well say it MUDBLOOD! Tell me you're too good for me. Tell me what a monster I am." My fingers begin to twitch. I need it desperately, the deep, warm feel of nicotine in my lungs. My brain is overloading. I slide out of my jeans and lie on his floor, a starfish. I countdown from one hundred. At thirty-five he is on top of me, naked, our skin pressed together. I open my eyes to find him searching mine, demanding so many things from me. I reach down and grab his arm, so beautifully pale, and I skim my lips down the length of his mark. Sliding my underwear down my legs he has me anticipating in a way I haven't been in so long. Forcefully, almost punishingly, he thrusts into me. My eyes close in the satisfaction of being filled. And it is a slow brutish burn to the finish. He collapses on me, my legs wrapped around his waist but my arms spread wide. Lying on the floor we are a starfish.


	3. Prisoner of History

The way I remember Ron isn't reality I realize, lying on my side wide awake while Malfoy sleeps. He was often quick to anger, narrow-minded and selfish. But just as often he was funny, sweet and selfless.

"_GOD DAMN IT. Hermione please. I am literally on my knees begging you not to do this." _

"_Ron, I'm not going to sit idly by while everyone lies down their lives." I whisper, half sobbing. _

"_I need you to be safe. I need you to be far away from there." He is up, standing, shaking me by my shoulders._

"_RON!" I scream eyes wide. He stills, breathing erratic. "I'm going." He storms away. No goodbye. No I love you. No I'll see you on the other side. And I go into battle estranged from the only person that loves me unconditionally. _

_It is horrific. Covered in mud and the blood of others, my heart screams with pain and loss. I have been so, naïve. The shadows are hard to discern from the death eaters and I think I've broken my wrist. I'm running unable to stop and mend it. I can feel someone behind me. I am alone and I'm convinced that there's nothing that I can do. Flying through the air, I land harshly against a tree a hundred feet from my assailant and there is Ron. He is covered in blood; I am unaware if it is his or someone else's. He faces off with the masked man, and I force myself into action, sprinting towards him. His eyes connect with mine and in them I see a bottomless, soul-eroding fear. And in the second he looks at me he falls. I kill for the first and the last time, wand pointed at the death eater, green light hitting him square in the chest. _

_Dropping to my knees, Ron's face is frozen into one of agony. His breathing is sporadic, his chest moving up and down harshly. The skin and part of the muscle has been ripped from his thigh, his stomach, his chest, and his face. I have no idea what kind of curse it was or how to fix it. Blood is pouring from everywhere staining me. _

"_No. NO. NO." I whisper. "Ron I love you. Please no. Please. I'm so sorry." He smiles at me then, just managing to touch my face before all the light leaves his body. It roars through me, this animal grief and I am ripped apart from the inside. On the edge of the forbidden forest, I hug his body close to me. It's like if I can cover him up with my body, his blood will stop flowing and he will come back to me. _

"_Hermione, Hermione baby?" Ginny is looking down at me, as I shift her face goes white. "Oh God." She clutches her stomach as she throws up._

"_Is it…" I can't finish, my brain is sputtering. Ginny manages a nod and that's all I need to know. I lie down next to Ron and hold him close to me until Harry rips me away from him. _

I shift my sore body into a sitting position on the side of the bed. Ron died protecting me. And I fucked an ex-death eater. I stand in the luxurious en-suite and lie down in the bathtub in the fetal position. The cool tile feels soothing against my burning skin.

Mysteriously furniture keeps turning up in my apartment. Soon I have an entire kitchen table and chairs, as well as a living room set. I've taken to writing Ginny, but I never send them. It's the only thing that can keep me from ripping out all of my hair. I miss Harry and Ginny so much. It makes the hole inside me so much larger. I think every day about joining them in the states. But then I wonder, am I one of the things they were trying to escape?

For the Christmas Holiday I find myself standing in front my parents house. I haven't seen them since I restored their memories. I couldn't bear not to be the daughter they remembered from before. I can't be her anymore. So I ran away to Hogwarts. I've always run away to Hogwarts. It's strange ringing the doorbell to my own home.

"Hermione?" My mum whispers as if I'm a ghost. I guess in a way I am. She folds my painfully thin body into her warm, full one. I collapse against her because no one can hold you like your mother can.

"Mummy." My voice breaks.

"Shhh. I know." My father puts on tea and my mum tucks me into my bed, crawling in beside me. She holds me until I fall asleep for the first time in awhile without the aid of alcohol.

Riding the train back to Hogwarts is painful, and my teeth are on edge. But I am in no emotional state to apparate. My mind is racing, anxious. I close my eyes and pray, actually pray to whatever God that is out there. I promise so many things as I get up and walk to the bathroom at the back of the train. It's just stress I tell myself as I slide my pants and underwear down. The unmarred cotton mocks me; I start to shake. Walking to the front of the train, I imagine it's written across my forehead in black. Minutes turn into hours and finally I set foot in front of the castle. My mind is numb enough for me to apparate to my apartment. I stumble into my bedroom to actually find a bed which I promptly collapse onto. Is there any hope for me? I search for parchment in my school bag and produce a quill. I quickly pen a note and send it off with my owl.

_Malfoy,_

_I need you to meet me in my apartment as soon as you possibly can. I need to discuss some things with you. I know we haven't spoken in awhile, but it's urgent._

_H.G._

Immediately I get up and go into the kitchen. Five unopened bottles of the wine sit in the fridge. The sadness and anger surges out of me in the form of wine bottles smashed against the opposite wall. I am standing there in the wake of my destruction. I reach down and find a piece of sharp, jagged glass. Just as Malfoy appears with a crack, I am contemplating dangerous things. He gets rid of it with a flick of his wand.

"Granger?" He is terrified. I smirk darkly.

"Can we just lie down for a minute?" I am so exhausted from the constant stream of emotions. Not one of them happy. Spread in my usual position I breathe in and out. Saying it out loud makes it real, means it's happening. I can feel him itching to touch me and holding back. But why? I need to know why?

"Why do you want to be around me? Why do you buy me furniture?" I demand.

"Granger are you that dim?" He whispers almost kindly. "You're incredibly annoying, stubborn, and a know-it-all. But you are also incredibly brave, strong, and kind. You have always been so kind where inside me there's always been darkness. It's simple; you lessen my hurt Granger." I barely hear the last few words. I sniff loudly. Am I crying?

"I'm pregnant." I say flatly.


	4. Stay

"Funny you're the broken one, but I'm the one that needed saving." –Stay

The words hang there, between us. And I can't manage all the thoughts coursing through my veins, cycling my body. He is unnaturally still beside me, his breaths extremely even.

"Say something." My voice is pleading, whiney. I hate it.

"What do you want me to say?" His voice has no ice, no heat; it is void. "You want me to say I love you? That I'm excited? You want me to say that I'll never leave you? That I care?"

I can feel the pressure building behind my eyes, my face flushing. I cannot cry. So instead I get up off of the floor. So instead I pace back and forth. Heart racing, bitter taste in my mouth.

"Nothing. I want you to say nothing" But my voice is shaking.

"Hermione –"

"No." I close my eyes. "When I open my eyes I want you to be gone." I'm so close to falling off the edge. I can't do it, not in front of him. The air cracks like lightning in the silence when he leaves.

I collapse to my knees, chest heaving and it comes out: all of the pain, the hurt that finds me in the night deep in my bones. The loss of Ron burning my throat as I sob and simultaneously whatever I had with Malfoy.

Teaching in that castle is a daily struggle. My mind isn't really there now, and my students can tell. Most of them avoid me in the hallways and that gives me another kind of pain. I never thought I'd be this girl. Twenty years old, alone, and pregnant. But I am now, everyday. I go to work, I come home, I go to sleep, I shower, and I go to work. And everyday he's waiting there at the gates. And everyday I walk past him. He never says a word.

I am summoned to the Headmistress's office and as I wait for her I am thinking. I've never been in trouble before.

"Professor Granger." She nods at me as she enters the room.

"Headmistress."

"I trust you know why I've asked you to meet me today."

"Honestly I have no idea why."

"Hermione," Her face softens. "Dear I know more than most what you've lost. But I know more than most what you've gained. You are living but you're not alive. I've watched you for months and I'm worried. I don't know whether to allow you to continue." My throat constricts.

"Headmistress, please. I'll do better." She bows her head, her face incredibly sad.

"Forgive yourself Hermione." She whispers. "You've got to or you'll spend your entire life dying."

"I can't." I mumble as I jump from my seat. She calls after me but I'm running. It feels all too familiar when I run into Malfoy around the corner, like it's happened a million times. Arms wrap around me and I just let go. I just let go.

"Malfoy I can't do this." He holds me and I can't stop repeating myself. And somehow I end up in a bed with black silk sheets; eyes wide open but not really seeing. It gets light and dark and then light again.

"Hermione." I turn to see the light framing his blonde hair like a halo. "I can't tell you that I love you. I can't tell you that I'm exactly thrilled. I can tell you that I care. I care about you so much right now it makes me physically ill to see you lying there in pain. I care that we did this together. I don't know where we'll be in ten years but I know what ever our child needs I'll try my hardest to provide it." And just like that he's a different man.

And when he kisses me, my neck, my lips, my hips, my feet, I hurt just a little bit less.

Looking at him across from me, eyes closed, sleeping my heart aches. He's beautiful, serene and I almost never get to see him with his face free from anxiety. He sleeps heavily which surprises me. Since the war I'm always sleeping on the edge, ready for anything. I trace his features with my fingertips, across his angular cheekbones, to his smooth lips. I wrap my arms around my stomach; what will my baby be? A little girl with platinum curls, or a boy with brown hair slicked back like a miniature Malfoy. My heart flutters. A child.

_Ginny,_

_You have no idea how many letters I have written. I sit down and write page after page but I never send them. I guess it's hard; not just for me but I know it's hard for you, for Harry. But I've been struggling. I'm not just talking about the sadness. I'm talking about a depression so deep the numbness paralyzes your mind, the sadness burns in your veins, and the plans are unending. I can't count the number of times I thought about it, being done. If I'm not living, it's letting go right? There isn't a second of every minute of every hour of every day that I'm not thinking about Ron. About how much I loved him, how much he meant to me. I mean fuck Ginny, we were engaged. He was going to marry me and we were going to have little ginger kids and idiotic rows. Sometimes when I think about what I've lost I get physically ill. _

_But it's a different kind of loss for you. I miss you so much. You were always there, my confidant. Well I really need you now. It's been a year Gin. A year since he died and almost as long since you and Harry left for America. I can't imagine what it's like for you. Sometimes I envy it. The opportunity to live where no one knows your name, where no one knows what happened, how damaged you are. It calls to me everyday. But here is home and I can't leave it. No matter how many times I look at a wall in Hogwarts and see a memory from before, it will be my home. It will be a place where I can remember Ron because I never want to forget. I don't want to let the pain ruin what was beautiful. _

_There are so many things I want to tell you. I need you to talk to me in that ridiculously blunt way that only you can. I need you to tell me if I'm wrong, if I'm an idiot, if I'm going to hell for this. But I can't do it in person; I've never had a problem speaking out loud until now. So I'm writing to tell you the biggest news of my life, which involves what used to be the worst part of my life. _

_I'm pregnant Ginny. Not that far-gone but I look in the mirror everyday and I can't believe it's happened. When I first realized, I wanted to scream until I burned from the inside out. I cried for days. Because not only am I pregnant, I'm pregnant by Malfoy. And I can imagine you turning your head, I imagine you ill, disgusted. I guess at first I would be but there are some things you need to know. _

_He's different and you know how I am. I work with him; he's the Potions Master. He cares Ginny. And I know that it's not a good enough reason. That you probably can't understand what I'm doing. And sometimes I don't either. But the thing is he's saved me from myself. At least for now, and I need you to know that he makes me better. He makes me whole-r. I know not really a word. But there's no other way to say it. But I miss you terribly and I hope that when you get this you'll find it within yourself to reply. And maybe to reply with a little mercy._

_Love Always_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Burning

_Hermione,_

_There are parts of me that want to understand, parts of me that want to tell you that it's ok. But right now I have to tell you about the parts of me that hate you. It's not because you moved on; everyone should find peace after what we've been through. It's whom you've chosen to move on with. Ron always strove to protect you—it's what killed him. Don't misunderstand; I'm not blaming you even if you blame yourself. It was just the way Ron was. He also saw the way Malfoy treated you, and it hurt him worse than anything. I won't speak for Ron; people tend to try to put words in the mouth of the dead. We have no idea what Ron would've wanted or said. I know you've probably thought about this for a thousand hours, and that's what makes me want to understand. I'll always think of you as a sister; you mean the world to me, so I'm going to try to work through what you've told me. But I need time. I'm not sure how much but I'll let you know. I miss you._

_Ginny_

It came this morning. One of the many things I woke up to. I've spent a good part of this morning dry heaving into the toilet; apparently I get to look forward to this for the next month. I have five more to adjust to the idea of this child, to this permanent attachment to Malfoy.

It's strange the way things change so quickly; one day there's no end to the greyness and then one day it clears off and you can breathe again. I walk to the castle every morning bundled up with Malfoy beside me. He makes me laugh more often than he makes me scowl. There's an easy warmth between us. We talk about our students and I love the faces me makes when I joke of favoring my red and gold Gryffindors. But the best part is watching him light up when he tells me about new potions. I never would've guessed that he'd be a perpetual student like me. He grumbles about his students, says they're hopeless; we both know he cares for them as I care for mine.

It's February now and I'm visibly pregnant. I'm not quite ready for the whole world's scorn. Press is not allowed anywhere near the castle but Hogsmeade is fair game. There have been pictures of Malfoy and I walking together laughing in the prophet every now and then with salacious headlines; with that visible bump comes instant truth to those headlines in the minds of the public.

On the evening of February ninth I find myself sitting in a booth across from Malfoy at Madame Rosemerta's. I'm in loose robes in hopes of concealing the bump a little while longer. The downfall of concealment spells is that they wear off quickly. My mind is all over the place and I can't hope to remember to renew it, so I've taken to hiding my predicament the muggle way.

"Have you told your mother," I blurt unceremoniously. It keeps me up at night—the iced over face of the woman who stood over me as her deranged sister carved up my body. I lose no sleep over the death of Lucius Malfoy during the final battle. In fact, I sleep a bit better. Though Harry vouched for Narcissa Malfoy in the trials following the end of the war, I know for her it's about self-preservation. If saving herself meant watching thousands of people murdered and tortured, she wouldn't bat an eye.

"No, I haven't." His eyes lower, mouth in a grim line. "I'm not really in contact with her." The tightening in my chest eases just a little.

"I'm telling mine this week. We're having tea Friday," I murmur.

"That's lovely." His smile is tinged with apprehension. Somehow Malfoy holding back his opinion is a ten fold more disquieting than the insults he used to thrive on.

"You don't want me to tell my parents," I say carefully.

"It's not that. It's just that once we start telling others I become responsible for ruining **the** war heroine," he sighs. "Your image becomes tainted by me." His voice has taken on a bitter quality.

"If they saw what I do—"

"Saw what," he cut me off, eyes flashing. "What do you see but a pathetic coward who's half of what a man should be?"

"I see a man who has grown out of selfishness and cruel callowness into a quietly careful person. I do not wish to imagine this scenario had it occurred three years ago. Instead of feeling shame and worthlessness, you make me hope and laugh."

"Do not fool yourself into thinking I have no dark places left Granger," he whispers.

"We all have dark places," I say because it's true. I was lost in mine for so long.

February tenth it is in the prophet, glaring up at me. I had no time to inform the Weasleys and we've been drifting apart for so long, a year now. I no longer have a place as their adopted daughter. And if I did it has certainly evaporated now. The words are bolded, in all caps: **HERMIONE GRANGER PREGNANT WITH MALFOY HEIR**. The image leaves no room for denial; Malfoy is helping me from the booth, my hand unconsciously tucking my hand under my abdomen, pulling the fabric of my robes taut. He's looking at me like someone who cares, like I mean something. It is a strange sight to see. My heart stutters at the crack that sounds before Malfoy appears in front of me, lips pulled down at the corners. His right hand is running through his pale hair.

"I can't fucking believe this," he spits, throwing his copy on the table in front of me.

"I know. I've seen it."

"Have you read the damn thing," he asks, visibly shaken.

"No," I whisper.

"Well you might want to Granger. I didn't think there could be anything that could defame you more than the picture, but the words did an even better job."

"What are you talking about?" I'm the one who's shaking now.

"Didn't you know Granger? We've been carrying on this sordid affair for years behind the back of Ron Weasley, who I murdered during the war to keep you all to myself."

The floor falls out from under me.


End file.
